


Murphy's Law

by Daydr3am5_and_Dai5i35



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Abused Peter Parker, Bully Flash Thompson, Dead May Parker (Spider-Man), F/M, Flash Thompson Being A Jerk, Gen, Genius Peter Parker, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, Identity Reveal, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Irondad, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Whump, Secret Identity, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, spiderson
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:21:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 12,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28074639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daydr3am5_and_Dai5i35/pseuds/Daydr3am5_and_Dai5i35
Summary: Peter had never been lucky. In fact, he'd go so far to say that he had been particularly unlucky. If fortune favours the brave, Peter must be a coward.
Relationships: Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 28
Kudos: 228





	1. Peter Parker

**Author's Note:**

> Rated Teen for language  
> TW: sexual abuse (marked by *)

Peter had terrible luck and he wasn't sure, sitting on the bench outside his old appartment building, how his life could get much worse. It had all happened so quickly, in less than a year Peter had lost everything and in the year following been broken down so much he wasn't sure what was left for him anymore. Well, he didn't completely mean that, not really.

-

Uncle Ben died when Peter was 14. A month after the spider bite, following Ben leaving to hunt out his nephew who left the appartment following a fight. Peter had stood by his uncle in shock as blood surrounded the wound in his stomach, eyes wide and hands shaking. He remembered the way Ben's eyes had been on him, the way his face displayed his pain as he told Peter he loved him despite it _all being Peter's fault_. 

-

Peter had always been the wimpy kid in school, always picked on and teased because he couldn't and wouldn't (originally due to his shyness and then because ' _great power, Peter_ ') stand up for himself. So when Peter became the main victim of Flash Thompson who was he to be surprised? After all, all Flash did was laugh at every thing Peter did. It didn't get to him _that_ much. It was better Peter than anyone else at any rate. After moving to high school, after Flash's dad made a large donation to the school and Flash realised the teachers often neglected his misdeeds he began to get more vicious. A shove here, slapping books out of Peter's hands there. It started off slowly. 

It was the first day Peter was back at Midtown following Uncle Ben's funeral, his hair and clothes dirty and his eyes red rimmed that Flash shoved him against a locker. 

"What happened to you Parker? You smell like a dumpster!" Flash crooned to the laughs of the surrounding crowd. Ned went to step in but Flash had already moved on throwing a smirk to Ms Davies a teacher who watched the interaction. She caught Peter's eye before looking down and moving on. From there, the bullying got worse. Instead of shouting Flash would throw a punch, stick his foot out to trip Peter who despite knowing it was coming with his Spidey sense, _knew_ that if Peter from before would have fell, he had to fall. At least, his super healing meant that the bruises were often healed enough to pass by unnoticed when he returned to Aunt May in the afternoons.

-

The loss of Uncle Ben wasn't just felt by the Parker's within their appartment but also the increased financial strain was notable. The cost of the funeral (because they couldn't not have a headstone despite how much it had cost) was enough to wipe out nearly all of their savings. 3 months after Ben's death, May began working extra shifts at the hospital. It started off with longer hours, 6 hour shifts became 12 hour shifts. 4 day weeks became 6 day weeks. The standard day shift was swapped with night and weekend shifts as much as possible (the unsociable hours having a higher pay). Eventually Peter was left to his own devices - it didn't matter that he was coming home from school with bruises or tears in his eyes. Aunt May was either at work or asleep. The appartment felt even emptier and Peter started to spend more and more time on patrol. 

-

Ned's dad got a promotion that took the family away from New York to Atlanta. A promise to call every night turned to every week. But then Ned had more friends in Atlanta, Ned had more to do in Atlanta. It wasn't hard for Ned to forget about what he left in New York. And so Peter was alone at school too. But that was fine. Peter was fine.

-

It had been raining and the late hour meant that the sky was dark and the streets lit solely by the surrounding lights and headlights of the cars on the road. Peter had heard the screech of tires while out on a late patrol (he was patrolling more and more with nothing there for him at the appartment). He arrived at the scene as a truck careened through a car, tires sqeaking against the slickened road. The sound of crushing metal reverabarated through Peter's scull as he swung to the scene. The driver of the truck was scrambling out of his seat, rushing in a wide circle to look at the damage in the other car. His eyes were wide, his hand raised to cover his mouth. Peter swung around to land beside him only to have his breath leave his lungs as he saw the woman in the drivers seat. Blood covered her face but there was no mistaking Aunt May, her eyes wide with shock, head bent at an awkward angle from where the air bags deployed when her head was turned. 

Peter ripped the door from its hinges. At first, all he could hear was his own too-fast heart and gasping breaths but then, like turning up a stereo, his senses were dialed to 11. He could hear the sirens of ambulances approahcing from blocks away, the motors of the cars at the intersection, the rain pattering against the tarmac and the sound of the hearts of the civilians surrounding the scene. The only sound Peter couldn't hear was May's heart. She wasn't breathing and as Peter pulled her out of the wreckage, her blood smearing across his gloves, he could tell from the angle of her neck that May was dead and something in Peter was dead as well. 

-

CPS had arrived at the appartment at 1am. There was a police officer and an older woman, 'call me Mindy', who introduced herself as Peter's caseworker. She sat at the kitchen table with the officer as Peter had to pack his things. 

'Your belongings in the appartment will be going into storage but we should be able to bring you back in the next few days if you've forgotten anything'. How could she smile? Peter's world was collapsing, his belongings split between his backpack and 2 black bin bags. 'We'll be taking you to an emergency Foster Carer for tonight until we can find something more permanent.' Peter felt numb as his belongings were pushed into the boot of the police cruiser. 

*-*

Skip Wescott was friendly and an experienced foster carer with 3 others already staying with him. Despite being 14, Peter was the youngest in the house with Oliver (17), Jacob (16) and Anthony (16) who had been with Skip for 3/4 years each already. At first it was just friendly and Peter was tactile and needed the hugs of comfort, to feel the support around him. But then Skip was more than 'just friendly'. Oliver spent all his time out of the house and Jacob and Anthony were all too happy to leave entertaining Skip to Peter. After all, he was smaller, younger, more Skip's type. 

He had shouted after Jacob once, near tears, asking why the social workers didn't care. 

'There is an investigation going on.' Peter looked up, lashes clumped together by tears, 'but they haven't found any real cause for concern yet'. His grin was feral, as was the laugh that followed Jacob up the stairs. 

*-*

Peter's days were spent being shoved around at school, shoved around at Skip's and beaten down on patrol. Peter could sense where the hit was coming from but something about being hit by a criminal before he webbed them against the wall for the police felt so much more _real_. His days were spent drifting until he was Spider-Man. When Peter was Spider-Man, he meant something to people. After all, no-one cared for Peter Parker.


	2. Spider-Man

Peter donned his Spider-Man mask in the alley way, webbing his backpack to the underside of the dumpster.

Peter was spending more and more time on patrol, he hadn't completed any assignments in the last month (his perfect 4.0 GPA dropped to 2.7 due to his dwindling attendance and lack of assignments handed in. Despite his good marks during in-class tests, Peter wasn't there enough to maintain his GPA to the point where his scholarship was on the line) and it didn't take much for Peter to decide he'd rather spend his days on the streets patrolling. He knew if his GPA dropped below 2.6 he'd loose the scholarship for Midtown and he'd have to transfer to one of the local state highschools but Peter wasn't sure how much he cared. A state highschool wouldn't have Flash, if he even decided to attend. High school drop-out wasn't what Peter though his future would hold this time last year but he also didn't think he'd be in the care of someone like Skip. 

New York was relatively quiet crime-wise, he saved a stolen bike and stopped 2 muggings of tourists but other than that, he spent his day sitting upon the roofs of highrises. He swung his feet, looking down at the busy roads below. People seemed so inconcequential from this high, so small, bustling around each other like ants. Peter wished his hearing was silenced by the buffeting winds but he could hear the clamour of thousands of voices metres below him. 

Peter wasn't expecting to have his Spidey senses flair at just before 4.30pm, directing his attention to a manhole cover on 21st street. Within seconds, the manhole cover rumbled and then shot a couple of meters into the air as many small robots tumbled from the sewers. People screamed, scrambling away from the robots and they jumped onto cars, street lights and traffic lights. Their tiny pincers were ripping out wires sending sparks everywhere. He immediately swung down, webbing down a small robot that was trying to grab the phone from a man's hands. It didn't take long though for the robots he webbed down to be ripped apart by those still standing and replaced by more of the bots from the sewer. As Peter continued to try and contain the bots to the single intersection (finding the best way to stop them was to catch them with a web and smash them onto the ground, allowing for surrounding bots to pounce on the dazed robot and rip out it's wiring) when he heard the sounds of whirring fast approaching. 

Flipping over as he webbed 2 bots together, he looked towards the sound expecting to see whoever had unleashed the metal menaces upon the city. Instead, a metal suit of red and gold was fast approaching. Swallowing down the lump in his throat, Peter began to web the bots that were ripping out each others wires, accumulating a growing pile and more and more of the bots appeared to be attracted to the mass of electricity. The sound of repulsors made Peter tense from his position perched upon a street lamp. With IronMan shooting his repulsors at the bots and the supply of more bots from the sewer slowing down, it didn't take much longer for all the bots to be down as the people on the streets slowly began to approach, phones out and recording.

"Nice job, Spider-Man." Peter was finding it difficult to breath around the lump in his throat, "Feel free to come by the tower at some point," but before he could get his breath back or even think of a response, Tony Stark was off, shooting up and then towards Manhatten and Stark Tower that stood over the surrounding high rises. Peter only remained on the street for a few more seconds until the sounds of people talking about the incident began to grate against his nerves and with a flick of his wrist he flung himself into the air and began to move back towards the alley where he left his things. 


	3. Peter Parker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: sexual abuse at the start of this chapter - marked by *

Spider-Man mask burried in his bag, Peter Parker began the slow trek back to Skip's. It had been a fleeting thought that often frequented Peter's mind: to stay on the streets. But with his lack of thermoregulation and a general awareness of the dangers that imposed themselves on the homeless Peter knew he'd be at an equal danger on the street. Although his spidey sense was a constant whenever in Skip's vicinity (often resulting in killer headaches that nothing but distance could aid) Peter figured the safety from the elements were worth it. 

*

That is, until he's in front of the man himself. Under the man himself. He couldn't even let his mind wander, his brain was working against him memorising the pain and grief and shame. God, Peter was _ashamed_. He was Spider-Man, he was strong enough to fit off a man 10 times Skip's strength and yet he couldn't move, couldn't scream out, trapped by his seized muscles. All Peter could do was cry silent tears, repeat 'no' and 'stop' to unlistening ears and stay semi-sane. That is if Peter was even sane to begin with. He could hear the other Foster kids throughout the house, knew they knew. Knew they knew and didn't say anything, didn't do anything to stop the madness that had wrapped it's chains around Peter, pulling him under. 

*

Leaving that room was no longer a relief. He felt the eyes of the other boys on his shaking shoulders, knew they saw his red eyes, tear stained face and the pained gait. Peter Parker was Spider-Man, but Spider-Man wasn't Peter Parker. Not really. If Spider-Man was strong as steel, Peter Parker was as strong as tissue paper.

Slipping into the bathroom, he did all he could to avoid the mirror. Avoid looking at who he was under the mask, who he really was. Peter would give so much to go back. To have more time before he was trapped here in this mildew smelling bathroom standing under too hot water. He allowed the water to burn at his skin, allowed his tears to be lost within the shower. He let the world be drowned by the scrubbing of his arms, his gapsed breaths and the heat from the shower. Knowing the grief he'd get from using all of the hot water but knowing he was still dirty, _so_ _f*cking filthy_ , he merely cranked the shower down to cold. The water slowed until it was icy reflecting the cool New York weather of mid November. How could a person feel so alive, so concious, when at the same time he felt so dead?

In his room, his sheets smelling of must and fear in a way that permeates everything in the box within which he was caged so completely, he has to try and hold together the shattered pieces of himself. He knew that if he let them fall, he would never be able to find all the pieces to put himself back together. Knew that he would not want to. Would not want to be who he was right then, standing in a room he hated, in the house of a man he detested, surrounded by people who loathed him for his existance. 

His head was burried in his pillow, Peter did not sleep, instead he listened to the others in the house go to bed and sleep. Skip snored, Anthony was always restless, Oliver stayed awake longest before passing out, near silent, for the rest of the night while Jacob who was commonly plagued by nightmares awoke, breathless, in the early morning. Peter didn't move until past 8am, past the time he would have needed to leave to get to school on time. Instead, he slung his backpack (still packed from the night before) onto his back and slipped from the house without seeing anyone. 

He didn't bother to go to school, his head throbbed and Peter... he was tired, _so exhausted_ in a way that made his very bones ache. He didn't want to fall asleep and be plagued by the nightmare imaginings of his memories, but he didn't want to be conscious. He didn't want to be here nor be in the now. What he would give to be cast back into a life he had ripped from his grasp. 

Instead, he pulled himself to the top ledge of an appartment building, allowed his feet to dangle over the edge. He allowed himself to feel the breeze and hear the rumblings of the city below and imagine a life that has long since become unreachable. He imagined that he lived a life free of fear and filled with happiness and naivity.

For the first time since last night Peter was able to take a full breath of air into his lungs.

Able to just exist without the pounding of his heart mirrored by the throbbing in his head. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was thinking of originally naming this Sod's Law until I realised that Sod's Law is only really used in the UK and I though Murphy's Law was a more universally understood. 
> 
> Murphy's Law is the idea of anything that could go wrong, will go wrong.
> 
> \---  
> https://www.samaritans.org/ - UK  
> https://suicidepreventionlifeline.org/ - US  
> https://www.iasp.info/resources/Crisis_Centres/ - international links


	4. Tony Stark

Iron Man, money and connections meant that Tony Stark had never had an invitation turned down. Throughout all his life, whenever Tony proferred an invitation, it would be pounced upon. However, after offering a visit to his tower to Spider-Man several days before, not only had the man not turned up, but had also not been seen since. This time last year, larger gaps between Spider-Man patrols where more common but in the last 2 months Spider-Man had been seen swinging around New York every day. Often it was mostly in the late afternoon but often Spider-Man would be seen sat high up, on the roofs of high rises or even on street lamps. Worried that the fight took more out of the anonymous vigilante than expected, Tony had instructed FRIDAY to keep an eye on Spider-Man's most common haunts but there was nothing else he could do.

When Tony first tried to track down Spider-Man he had been able to produce quite the profile and had nearly tracked the vigilante down but then somthing changed. Spider-Man sightings had been almost non-exsistant for several weeks and the crime rate reflected the loss keenly. New Yorkers took to social media, running campaigns asking where the spider themed vigilante was and a shrine had even been started in a shop in Queens. But then Spider-Man was back, quieter and for shorter periods, but Spider-Man was back on the streets. People carried on, rates of crime went back down and Spider-Man slowly worked back up to longer patrols. 

Of course, Tony had tried to track down the man behind the mask multiple times since then but whatever happened that made Spider-Man go MIA turned the man into a ghost. His patrols commonly frequented different areas and he spent so much more time lurking like a colourful gargoyle than Tony thought would ever be possible. When the notification came through FRIDAY that someone was in one of Spider-Man's more frequented points surveying the city (a roof top ledge of an 8 story appartment building in West Queens) Tony didn't take long before summoning a suit and leaving through the pent house. 

-

It was a kid. Probably around 13, no older than 15 judging by his size but too young regardless to be sat on a rooftop, with dirty clothes, feet swinging nonchalently off the edge of the roof. Tony knew there was no easy rooftop access and questions were firing within his mind but his main worry was the way the kid was looking down onto the streets 80 feet below. 

He hadn't even touched down onto the roof before he saw the boy's shoulder tense. He stepped out of the Iron Man suit onto the roof.

"Hey, kid. Shouldn't you be in school?" There's no response. The kid doesn't even look over. "I'd appreciate it you'd step away from the ledge." Still nothing, "Didn't your parents teach you that you should face your elders when they're speaking to you?" The kid was quick, he went to push himself forwards off the roof, but Tony (somehow) was quicker, able to grip the boy around his upper arm. 

Like an eel, the kid was twisting, kicking around. He didn't speak, merely gasped out as he wrentched at his arm. Tony had to wrap his arms around the kid's waist. His eyes widened at the suprising strength the kid possesed. 

"Hey, hey, stop it." The kid cracked his skull backwards, knocking against Tony's chin. His grip only loosened for a moment but it was enough for the kid to drop, twist and leap back. Tony got a glimpse of his face before he dropped from sight across the side of the building. 

The breath was ripped from his lungs as he lunged towards the edge of roof, summoning his iron man suit to wrap around him. He froze, looking down but there was no kid plumetting on the ground. No shouts from pedestrians having seen a child jump to his death. In fact, spinning around from his spot hovering just in front of the building, he couldn't see the kid anywhere.

"FRIDAY? Did you get facials of that kid?" The AI displayed a freezeframe on his HUD "Great, can you run facial recognition? Where will I be able to find this kid?"

"Running facial recognition now boss." Tony nodded, sighed and began the trek back to the tower his heart still racing.


	5. Iron Man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of criminal charges related to sexual abuse included in the chapter.

Tony Stark had a huge breadth of technology at his fingertips and yet it was still _too slow_. 

"How's the scan looking FRI?" He asked landing on the balcony and entering the pent house.

"I have found a 89% match," Tony quirked an eyebrow.

"Well pull it up then FRI." He plucked up a StarkPad from the counter as he moved to the lift to take him down to his workshop. "Peter B Parker?" Tony mused as he flicked through the files, face slowly becoming more serious. The documents included the kid's CPS file, his school records as well as the death certificates of his parents, his aunt and uncle. Tony knew the pain of loosing family but for a kid to loose his entire extended family, getting tossed into foster care with 3 other boys, well Tony wasn't surprised to see the drop in grades. 

School abscences were racking up, Peter not having attended school for the past week, and the number of outstanding assignments was pretty ridiculous to the point where the foster home must be at least partially neglectful to not remedy the situation. The kid had seemed bright, perfect grades, excelling in science programmes and a member of the school's competitive academic decathalon team. The boy was leagues ahead of his school and many older comments made on his reports from teacher's spoke of Peter seeming bored, easily completeing even the most challenging tasks set before him: his comprehension of chemistry was also frequently noted as genius. Then everything changed. 

Checking the dates and, yes, after the kid's last relative (one May Parker) died his attendance began to drop and his assignements frequently went 'missing'. All though the reports said that the kid was still acing in class tests, his lack of assignments and later absolute lack of attendance meant his GPA dropped drastically to the point where he was barely holding onto his scholarship. He couldn't fault the kid, especially when he stumbled across reports of repeated altercations between him and a 'Flash Thompson', a name he recognised as a big time layer and beneficiary of many of Stark's own projects. 

So a bullied kid who lost his last remaining family and was shoved in foster care. The certainly explained the drop in academic performance but to be sat on a rooftop? 

Tony flicked to copies of Peter's CPS files. His current foster carer was a 38 year old man called Steven 'Skip' Wescott Jr., he had 3 other boys who had been with him for an additional 3/4 years a piece and -

At the bottom of the file detailing Wescott's information was: **Investigation Pending**

"FRIDAY? Get me all you can on Steven Wescott Jr, may also be under the name of Skip."

"Yes sir, I've started to compile the available files." Tony immediately began to scan through the documents, records of Steven's parents (a successful lawyer and a socialite), his school career (star athlete) and records of his employment (currently held in his father's firm). "Sir, I have found the possibility of further sealed records on Steven Wescott Jr within the FBI database." Tony swallowed. 

"You know what to do girl." It was only another few minutes before arrest records for Steven Wescott Jr where in front of him along with a transcript of the court preceedings. 

Two charges of sexual assault and possession of child pornography. 

Looking at the court transcription it seemed sure that Wescott was going to be declared guilty on all charges but then his defending lawyer (unsurpisingly it was Steven Wescott Snr.) pulled out some settlement which meant that Skip's criminal record would be sealed and all he had to do was pay a $500 fine and do 50 hours of community service. 

"Don't they run checks or do they let any old nutter become a foster parent these days?" 

"I'd feel it's best to mention that I have records of the complaints recorded against against Mr Wescott by his previous foster children and one of the boys he currently is the guardian of: Oliver Harrow." 

"Give it to me FRI." Further documents appeared on his screen along with a police report. Both the ex-foster (a kid named Harrison Klarkson) and the Harrow kid mentioned sexual and physical abuse but upon examination of the premesis there was no sign of anything untoward. An investigation was encouraged but that was it. 

Tony wasn't sure how much he could do other than paying for an investigation to be conducted with more urgency but considering Wescott Snr helped Skip's original charges be forgotten... Maybe Tony Stark wasn't who these kids needed. Maybe they needed Iron Man. 

"FRIDAY? I want a drone observing the Wescott residence. I want filmed evidence of on-going neglect and I want an alert whenever you spot the warning signs of oncoming abuse. Physical or-" Tony breathed out long and slow. His heart had began to race.

"Yes boss, a Stark Industry drone has been deployed now. May I ask how much recorded evidence you'll want?" Tony rubbed a hand over his head.

"As much as possible but if that man lays a hand anywhere near those kids let me know immediately. Make it a new protocol - New Skipper." 


	6. Steven Wescott

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Strong language used at the end of the chapter along with references to physical abuse.

Skip was always trouble. From his early childhood, Steven Wescott Snr received many calls from his school complaining how Skip liked to push and shove, pulling little girls' hair. It drove his wife near madness trying to deal with Skip's behaviour. No matter how often she took away his games, grounded him, shouted at him Skip would continue with his behaviour a few days later. _Of course_ , Mila wouldn't let Steven touch the boy no matter how much he insisted that one good thrashing would solve all their problems. 

-

"He's just a _boy_ , Steven! You won't touch him, you hear!" So many arguments followed the same routes around Skip and the boy was never bothered.

"A boy? A boy doesn't break someone's arm when they refuse to move off the climbing frame!"

"It was an accident! Skip couldn't have known when he pushed that other little boy!"

"An _accident_? He didn't just shove him out the way! He pushed that kid over the barrier: the kid is a sociopath."

" _STEVEN!_ " 

-

So no, Steven wouldn't say he was surprised when police arrived asking for Steven Wescott Jr due to sexual assault allegations. The images they found on his computer? Disgusting but not necessarily that far left field. For Mila? It was as if her world had ended. Her 'darling' was a rapist and a paedophile and there would be a court case, a criminal record, their names would be -

"Dragged through the dirt! Steven! You must do something, if not Skip then for yourself. You share a _name_ with the boy." He scowled at his paper, rubbing his eyes from under his reading glasses.

"Mila..."

"Don't Mila me, Steven! The Wescott name will be dirt! What will my father say? To know what I've raised-"

"I wouldn't say you raised him, sweetheart. How many nannies did that boy have? 5? 10?"

"Steven!"

With money contributed from Steven himself and Mr Gronwald (God, to have to take money from his father-in-law - what more will that boy drive him to?) they were able to get a substantial settlement for the girl as well as paying the court to seal Skip's record. They settled on a small $500 fine and 50 hours community service for the pornography on his hard drive and it was sorted. Didn't even hit the papers and yet... Steven couldn't help but think a stint in jail would have helped the boy. 

When Skip came to his father with a certificate saying he had passed the bar, Steven decided that if Skip worked for him at least he'd be able to keep track of the boy. Then Mila asked about 'the boys'.

"Boys? What's this about now Skip?"

"Didn't you know? Skip has become a foster dad, isn't that lovely?" Didn't the woman remember? It had been almost 20 years granted but Steven would not say Skip was foster carer material.

"Foster care, Skip? That's a lot of responsibility."

"Those boys need all the love they can get, isn't that right mother?" Steven's blood went cold. Is it coincidence? Has the boy, now a man, actually changed? The stress prickled down his neck for the rest of the meal, worry for whatever boys were left in Skip's care. Steven had never been very regretful but now he wasn't sure. Was it _his_ fault for what happened to the boys in Skip's care? No. No, it's no-one's fault except the rapist's. It's not Steven's fault. He doesn't know for sure if Skip hasn't changed. He's done all he could to give Skip a good life, but Skip was a man now. What Skip does have nothing to do with Steven.

"Give those boys love for me Skip. Have a good evening, I'll see you next week." Skip smiles, a smile that Steven doesn't want to recognise.

"Of course mother. Those boys are getting all the love they need." Skip meets Steven's eyes, head held high. Steven knew. He _knew_ in that moment before Skip turned and began to walk to his car.

"Those poor, _poor_ boys."

"Oh I know dear, it's such a great thing that Skip's taking them in." Mila was so naive, but Steven just hummed and turned back into the house.

-

His mobile rang for the second time. He sighed, setting down the paper. It was past 9, Steven didn't like to answer the phone past 9 in the evening.

"You've reached Steven Wescott."

"Father?" Steven froze, he could hear sirens and talking and Skip's voice _shook._ Has Skip's voice ever shook?

"What happened?"

"The police are here, _Iron Man_ is here. How soon can you come?"

"At your home?"

"Yes."

"I can be there in 20. Make them wait, don't let them take you to the station."

"Of course."

"And Skip?" _What did you do?_

"... yes?"

"Are you asking for your father? Or for your lawyer?"

"... a laywer, sir." Steven hung up the phone, grabbed his keys and headed out directly for the car not bothering to tell Mila where he was going. If this was what Steven thought it might be then it may be best she doesn't know. Not yet.

The cops stopped talking as they approached, one stepping out to talk to him.

"Excuse me-"

"I'm Steven Wescott Snr, I'm here to talk to my son as his lawyer." The officer froze but nodded, turning and walking back towards the house. The 2 other cops by the door split to let them pass. The house smelt like damp and was dirty. He was lead into a living room where his son sat, a bruise on his jaw and around his eye already blackening, with a police officer standing over him and, he wasn't lying, Tony Stark in the Iron Man suit was stood there, his face plate lifted to reveal his furious expression.

"Father." Skip stood and raised his arm to shake his hand but the officer stopped him.

"Mr Wescott, thank you for joining us so promptly." He nodded to the officer. "Mr Steven Wescott Jr has been arrested for criminal neglect and child abuse. An investigation is currently underway in regards to rape and child sexual abuse." Steven wants to swear, to rage, to throw his fist against his son's face but someone beat him to it.

"Who hit him?" The officer shifts, looking back at the furious expression Tony Stark was wearing. "Stark? What are you even doing here?" The man looked down his nose towards Steven, his glare fierce. 

"I was in the area. My AI alerted me to a disturbance on the property and I saw him stood over one of the boys, beating the sh*t out of him." Steven clenched his fists, _sh*t indeed_ , an unbiased witness was always trouble to fight against in court, never mind one with as much money and public sway as Tony Stark. 

"I assume you have adequate proof?" Stark's lip twitched, clearly angry.

"My AI records everything while I'm in the suit and if that's not enough for you, the boy had to be taken to hospital." Even with Gronwald money, Steven would not be able to pay of Tony Stark. The man had billions. Another police officer enters the room.

"Detective, can I speak to you in the other room for a moment?" The 2 cops left leaving Steven, Skip and Stark. Steven meets Stark's glare head on until the man stepped down, out of the suit. Without the suit, Stark was shorter than Steven expected but the man still seemed to be surrounded by an aura of power. The suit appears to still be active, it's eyes alight, but Stark leaves the room allowing Steven to walk over and glare down at Skip.

"What did you do to those boys?" Silence, "Tell me dammit!" Skip's lips twitch - a sign that he finds this funny. Of course he does, probably expects his father and grandfather to pay his way out of it. "We won't be able to outbid Stark on this, tell me what you did to those boys." That gets Skip's attention, his jaw drops slightly as his head snaps up.

"What?"

"We won't be able to pay you out. You're done, now what did you do. You have to tell me otherwise I won't have any reason to even try and argue for a reduced sentence." 

"I didn't do anythi-" Steven glares down at Skip, daring him to lie to his face _one more time_ , "I... So what if I hit them, not like you didn't want to thrash me as a kid." Skip swallows, loud enough that Steven can hear it in the room, "I may have... Oliver originally but then Peter came..."

"You what? Beat him? Why? Cause it made you feel big, cause you get off on it? Disgusting." Skip stands up, puffing out his chest like he has something to be proud of.

"Oh I beat all of them, for good f*cking reason. They need to learn, they talk back, they stay out late, make messes. So I teach them. You want to know what I do to them? I _care_ for them, show them that I _love_ them. Oliver originally, needed the extra love, I did it for them. He needed to know that I loved him and then, Peter as well. Lost everyone you see, troubled brat. I had to show he was worth loving." Steven felt sick.

"That isn't love." Skip has the nerve to look affronted, confused. 

"I'm not in the wrong-"

"That's abuse, it's _disgusting_. You can't do that to kids. Didn't they say no? Didn't they try and push you away?" Steven could feel the spit filling his mouth, he was going to be sick.

"Well at first of course. But you get told as a foster parent that the kids are bound to try and push you away. You have to persevere. Show them your love."

"They didn't -, you can't-, _f*ck_." Steven turns away, hand bracing himself against the wall as he vomits on the floor. " _F*cking sick_ , I can't _believe_ you, I- I'm not going to help you. You don't even see the problem with what you did to those boys do you?" Skip scowls, "That's - that's _abuse_ , _rape_ , God. How can I even _look_ at you?" The officers walk back in, wide eyes going between Skip and Steven. "He's guilty, God, take him away. You put cuffs on him right now. He's - he's not my son." Steven leans his head against the wall, swallowing down the bile. The police cuff Skip as he snarls at them, reiterating that he was 'just showing them _love_ '. 

Steven watches silent as they read Skip his rights and put him in the backseat of a cop car before returning to his car and driving home.


	7. Spider-Man

Peter's heart was beating faster than he thought possible, the bricks at his back scratched at his over-sensitive skin as his senses seemed to dial up to the extremes. If the noises of the city were loud, the noise of Iron Man's thrusters were deafening. It seemed to be a second and an hour simultaneously between Peter relaxing, swinging his feet over the edge of the building and the appearance of Tony Stark. Why had the man even been there? Peter didn't want to contemplate. 

It was Peter's constant paranoia which meant that his web shooters were secured around his wrists. It was luck that he was able to swing himself around fast enough that by the time Tony Stark was back in the suit he had managed to hide from view. He stayed in the small alcove at the side of the building long after Stark had left and slowly crawled down the wall towards the floor keeping an eye out for anyone that might spot him without his suit on. Once on the ground, Peter allowed himself to get lost with the crowds moving through out the New York streets. He allowed himself to be washed away with the faceless crowds. 

Very soon, the street lights began to flick on and people were slowly migrating into their homes. Peter sighed, ignoring the shiver that wanted to crawl down his spine as he wrapped his arms around himself. It was too cold for Peter to stay on the streets longer and so, he began the trek back to Skip's house with his hood pulled up over his head. 

Cop cars covered the street, lighting the buildings with red and blue. Peter slowed down, the door to Skip's house was open and a police officer stood talking to a woman. She was familiar in a navy pantsuit and pink blouse, brown hair and pitying smile - _Mindy_ , Peter's social worker. He stopped, quietening his breathing and focusing his hearing on their conversation.

"-horrifying. I've already made some calls and I've found some emergency foster carers for the boys. Once they've packed, I'll be taking them in my car."

"Of course, I believe the detective-" Their conversation was interuppted as the noises within the house increased. Peter could hear Skip and several men who he didn't recognise. He ducked into a neighbouring alley and looked back to see Skip, cuffs around his wrists, be led to a police car. 

"I was showing them _love_!" Peter felt sick but then, as Skip was helped rather forcefully into the police car Peter noted the black eye, the bruise along the side of his face and his lip appeared to be split. Someone had beat him. A grin began to stretch across Peter's face and relief seemed to grow like an inflating balloon within his chest. He pressed his back against the wall as he slid to the ground the smile beginning to cover his entire face. His cheeks ached as a gasped laugh escaped him. Quivering hands touched his smile, a smile that hadn't been real since May, maybe even before then. He was even _crying_ , tears dropping onto his slightly cracked lips and fingers. 

Peter remained grinning on the floor of the alley until the police cars began to pull away. He stood up, brushing off the dirt that now clung to his trousers and felt the full-body shiver that raced along his spine. He contemplated about turning back to the house that would no longer be his prison but he felt the call of the city. The call of swinging between skyscrapers and instead of allowing himself to be carted to another foster home, Peter turned around and began to walk away. His pace quickened. The grin was still on his face and his cheeks ached. He began to run, letting out a whoop as he darted across a street, a car honking at him. Peter was laughing now, arms pumping by his sides as he sped up: running with more and more speed. The wind pulled at his hair and dried out his mouth and the world (for the first time since the spider bite) was silent except for the wind. 


	8. Peter Parker

Spider-Man suit on underneath Peter's jeans and shirts didn't help fight off the cold. Especially as the night began the reach its height and the wind picked up. Peter swung to the alley by Skip's (but it's not Skip's now is it? He couldn't help but grin at the thought) and, once landed, took off his mask. The police presence was no longer there and the house was dark. Peter had to get in through one of the upstairs windows, leading him into Oliver's room. The room had been emptied, the wardrobe left open from when he had packed. Rather than contemplate the fact that he wasn't in the new foster home, Peter instead moved into his old room: the small box with no windows and only a bulb to light the small space that would no longer be his prison. His clothes, laptop, the photograph of Peter, Ben and May all go into his backpack. He has to choose between his school things and his blanket, it's not a difficult decision. But then Peter pauses, the wind can be heard rattling the window looking into the landing and the patter of - rain. He could leave now, leave and never look back but he didn't want to face the cold of the streets and inside it was warm. Trusting in his spidey-senses to alert himself to anyone entering the property and approaching his room, Peter laid down and allowed himself to slip into sleep. 

-

Peter could hear the click of the lock, his eyes snapping open as someone entered the house. 

"Peter?" Mindy, the social worker, "Peter? Are you here?" Peter knew how creaky the floorboards were. He slowly, slowly, _slowly_ , stuck his hands to the wall, pulling his weight off the bed frame. "I'm not sure if he came home last night-" she was on a phone call, even Peter's hearing couldn't make out the words said by the other person on the line, "I'll check his room in case he came in and went to bed and if not I'll leave a note, maybe come by again tomorrow." She was moving towards the stair case. Cursing silently in his head, Peter used a webshooter to pull his packed bag into his arms before scuttling to the roof above the door. The ceiling weren't high but if Mindy didn't look up, he'd be fine. He positioned himself on the ceiling right above the doorway, backpack strapped to the front of his chest. The door opened. She peered into the room before sighing. "No sign of him. I'll leave a note with my number on it. He should already have my number but you know teenagers! I'll be on my way to the office now."

Peter stayed on the ceiling until he heard the door lock behind Mindy as she left. He sighed in relief as he allowed himself to drop onto his feet. The decision to not go to school was easy and instead, Peter pulled on his mask in the alley near Skip's place. Deciding to keep his backpack on him, Peter swung upwards, quickly building up some speed. 

-

With Queens quiet, Peter stopped on a rooftop, looking towards Manhatten. Stark tower and the empire state building standing above the rest of the skyscrapers. He faltered for only a moment before deciding to make his ways across towards Times Square. 

Tourists were more frequent on this side of the river and Peter caught three different pick pockets in Times Square alone. Selfies with Spider-Man were a hot commodity and people often shouted out for him as he swung above the streets making him smille beneath the mask. He flipped through the air, making peace signs when he saw camera's on him and perched atop various billboards to look out over the writhing mass of people. A street vendor had given him a pretzel earlier on and, whilst leaning against a brick wall 12 stories up (only his feet sticking to the wall) he raised the mask above his mouth and took a bite. He hadn't realised how hungry he was until he began to eat and the single pretzel wasn't enough. With no money, Peter wasn't sure what to do. 

He had begun to swing back to Queens, feeling the ache of hunger in his bones that he hadn't paid mind to before he ate something, when he glanced back and saw Stark Tower. He had a standing invitation right? He allowed himself to swing around and began to head towards the tower.

As soon as his feet hit the roof of the building, the doors to the penthouse swung open. 

"Welcome Spider-Man. Boss will meet you in the penthouse shortly, please take a seat." The voice seemed to come from the multiple spots on the ceiling. He frowned but followed the directions, perching on the edge of the settee that must have cost more than everything in Peter's bag. The view from the wall length windows was astounding and Peter fidled with his hands as he realised that he couldn't actually hear any noise other than a soft whirring of electricity in the walls and incredibly muted conversation from the floors below him. A new whirring sound was heard, a lift, from behind him and quickly approaching. 

"Spider-Man!" Tony Stark entered the penthouse from the elevator, his arms outstretched, "You've become a hard man to find." Peter felt his shoulders tense at the thought of Tony Stark using his resources to find out who Peter was. Tony Stark was one of his childhood heroes and the thought of him realising who he was under the mask, the mess of Peter Parker, was something that could give Peter nightmares. 

"You're a hard man to miss, Mister Stark." He laughed, moving over to clap Peter on the shoulder. 

"Mister Stark? How old are you kid?" Peter's scowl was hidden by the mask but he didn't say anything. Refuting it was a sure way of making Mister Stark assume he was young and if he was trying to figure out Spider-Man's identity? Peter would prefer for Mister Stark to be distracted looking at young men rather than teens. Before Peter could think of a better reply, Peter's stomach rumbled loudly making him cringe, pushing his fist into the stomach to try and muffle the sound: not that it worked. "You seem hungry kid. Want some -" He paused to look up at the large screen on the wall that was displaying the weather, time and news headlines "dinner? I can order in. Pizza sound good?" Peter swallowed but why else did he come here if not to have something to eat. After all, he felt the hunger in his bones so profoundly that he ached and the thought of swinging anywhere (let alone figuring out where he would be spending the night sounded atrocious right about now. 

"Pepperoni would be good."

"You heard the kid, FRI, 2 pepperoni pizzas." 'FRI' must be his AI, and also the voice he heard as he arrived at the tower, "So tell me Spider-Man, who are you?"


	9. Tony Stark

"Iron Man alerted police and child protective services yesterday evening at 9.17pm after being alerted to a disturbance in Queens. Steven Wescott Jnr also known as Skip has been arrested for criminal neglect and child abuse. Current investigation is underway about allegations of assault and sexual abuse of the foster children in his care-"

"Turn it off, FRIDAY. Turn on my music yeah?" Shoot to thrill began to play as Tony zoomed in on the web shooters of the Spider-Man suit schematics. He hadn't figured out how to synthesise Spider-Man's webs (he knew they were artificial as they were made from polymers rather than proteins) as chemistry was not one of his areas of expertise and so he was left unsure how to create the webshooters. If he ever had the chance to talk to him, Tony had so many questions. He was aware his curiosity was insatiable but how else would Tony have become a college graduate at 17 if not for his desire to find answers?

"Sir, Spider-Man has arrived at the pent house." Tony's eyes snapped to the ceiling. Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

"Tell him I'm on my way."

-

"So tell me, Spider-Man, who are you?" He can see the tension in the man's shoulders, "I must admit I have questions about your abilities," people may say Tony was ignorant to other people's emotions but even with the mask and goggles Tony could tell Spider-Man was still very much on edge, "I really want to know who produces your webs. I can see that they are not biological." The younger man's head tipped slightly to the side. Clearly, his webs were a less sensitive topic.

"You're right, they're synthetic. I, made them myself." Tony's eyes widened. That, was not what he had been expecting. Judging by the man's supposed fairly young age (Tony had estimated early 20s) he couldn't help but be surprised despite being called a prodigy himself.

"Yourself? In what lab? Where do you work?" The man shifted, Tony felt that if he could see his eyes he'd be looking for the exits.

"I mean, what's in a secret identity if you knew where I worked?" Tony grinned.

"How do you stick to walls? Everything I've synthesised hasn't worked to any where near the same degree as what you've got going on." The man rubbed the back of his neck and let out an awkward chuckle.

"That's not - that's not technology Mister Stark. That's all me." Tony's eyes widened. He had figured the man was enhanced after seeing a recording of him catching a car but had thought it was to do with flexibility, speed and strength - not being able to stick to walls.

"Well, I suppose that explains a lot then." 

"The pizzas have arrived boss." Tony nodded, standing as the lift doors opened and Happy placed the pizzas on a small table. His eyes landed on Spider-Man who was still perched on the couch and sent a look which Tony decidely ignored. 

"Here we are," Tony handed one of the pizzas over, Spider-Man's stomach rumbled louder than before "dig in, kid." He watched with keen eyes as the boys raised his hands to the mask but rather than take it off and reveal his face, the mask was merely rolled up to his nose. 

"Thank you Mister Stark." Tony shook his head.

"No worries, Spidey."

The pizza didn't last long and Tony had to wonder if Spider-Man was getting enough to eat as he offered the other half of his own pizza. Spidey did originally refuse until Tony assured him that if Spidey didn't want it, it'd be forgotten in the fridge or even thrown away.

"So, Spidey. I must say, I couldn't help but notice your suit could do with some upgrades. A onsie doesn't provide much protection."

"Upgrades?"

"Yeah, I threw together a few ideas after our impromptu team up last week. If you'd like to come down to the lab you can have a look. Tell me your thoughts? Maybe even show me your webs? I couldn't design webshooters without knowing how they're stored and the force required to shoot them."

"Mister Stark that would be, I, that, you'd- yes, yes please Mister Stark." He grinned at the kid's stuttering. 

"Well then, follow me down to candy land."


	10. Peter Parker

The Spider-Man mask didn't allow for many expressions but Peter would be surprised if the Tony Stark, Iron Man, billionaire genius philanthropist, didn't see how wide Peter's eyes became at seeing his lab. Candy land was right, the room was well lit and filled with mostly metal fixtures such as tables and carts of tools. Blue tinted holograms where visible and several transparant screens seemed to be teeming in information. An Iron Man suit was laid back in a chair, the chest plate removed revealing the wiring.

"Mister Stark this is-"

"Incredible? I know." Peter wasn't sure what to say to that and instead took a couple steps into the room. He span in a slow circle trying to take in as much as he could. Peter could die right there and be happy to have even entered a space so _majestic_. "Well don't just stand there." Mister Stark had moved to a table with a hologram floating over the top. As Peter approached, he saw the spider symbol on the chest. "I figured you'd need an upgrade, these are the schematics but I couldn't work out how the web shooters needed to be incorporated." Peter smiled as he shuffled closer to peer into the hologram, snapping a webshooter off his wrist.

"After synthesising the web fluid I store them, compacted, in these cartridges. In truth? I made the cartridges from test tubes and a pressurised nozel. Similar to how taking a blood sample works I suppose. The cartridge slots into the webshooter like this," Peter reclicked the cartridge into place, twisting it to make sure it's secure, "and then you use the trigger to shoot the web. Different pressures and timings determine how much of the web fluid is ejected." Tony nodded, looking at the webshooter in Peter's hands before holding out a hand in asking. Peter hesitated, but this is Tony Stark, _Peter's Hero_ , and so Peter handed it over. Tony tilted it this way and that, looking at the device, removing and replacing the cartridge.

"Where'd you get the materials for this? I know you said you used test tubes and nozels-" Peter nodded, holding his hand out the retake his device. After having the webshooters on his wrists almost 24/7, his wrist felt oddly light with it missing.

"Dumpster diving mostly." He couldn't tell Mr Stark that he used the solder from shop class but, "I like to take apart some old stuff I find as well." The webshooter Tony had just seen was made from an old VHS player, a broken microwave and a can of compressed air (that had double use to act as a dispenser but also to clean the parts of dust and dirt.

"Very impressive. Would you mind showing me the schematics?" Mister Stark pulled up a hologram and began to input some data leading to the rough shape of Peter's current webshooter to form. "I'll show you how to manipulate the holograms? And then go wild, materials aren't an issue anymore." Peter returned Mister Stark's grin before moving closer to peer the hologram.

-

Peter wasn't sure how time passed so quickly but his eyes began to sting a little and the next yawn couldn't be swallowed down. Peter went to rub his eyes but jolted as he realised he still wore his mask.

"You alright, Spidey?" Mister Stark was peering at him above his tablet. Peter shook his head lightly to try and shift his tiredness.

"Y-yes Mister Stark. I'm sorry, what's the time?" Mister Stark raised an eyebrow as FRIDAY answered.

"It is currently 3.23am Eastern standard time." Peter's mouth dropped open as Mister Stark laughed.

"I didn't realise it was that late, Spidey. Hope you don't have anyone waiting for you." 

"Nah, nobody to wait for me." Peter replied pulling at his mask before freezing, "I mean, my roomate is out tonight, you know how it is." Mister Stark looked Peter up and down, frowning.

"Well," he paused, "even if it's just for tonight," Mister Stark didn't sound very believing of Peter but he wasn't sure how he could persuade him, "you are welcome to a guest room for the night." Peter bit his lip. It's not like he had anywhere he could go he reminded himself, Skip was in jail and the social worker may be back and he was too tired to swing around the city all night. But the more time he spent with Mister Stark the more chance that Peter will be found out. He frowned, his head beginning to ache. 

In fact the pain behind his eyes was sharp and stinging and so so painful. Peter hadn't realised he closed his eyes until he was opening them to see the room spin a little. And then a lot.


	11. Spider-Man

Peter felt sick to his stomach and swallowing made him feel like his mouth was filled with sand. Mister Stark was stood over him, eyes wide and mouth opened wide in shock.  
"Y-you're the kid." Peter frowned, dragging his arm up to rub at his aching head only to freeze when he felt his hair and skin, not his mask. Peter immediately snapped upright only to sway as the room blurred. "You need to stay seated Peter, FRIDAY said you were showing signs of hyperglycemia, you sick kid?" Peter felt like the world kept switching from going very fast to a snail's pace. One minute it felt like he was stuck in a tornado and the next he was in the centre of the storm.   
"My mask-"  
"I had to remove it Peter," Tony was trying to grab his arms, "We need to get to medbay."  
"No, no-" Peter struggled only momentarily to summon the strength to pull away, "No. Stop, why'd you- why'd you _do_ that?" His eyes flicked around him, he was on the floor now and Peter didn't really want to think how he got there. Not when Mister Stark was crouched by him and, his _mask_ was in Mister Stark's hand. How could he take his mask off?  
"Peter, Peter-"  
"No! Stop it, how'd you know my- stop it, get off." Mister Stark knew who Peter was, knew who _Peter Parker_ was and he knew that _Spider-Man_ and _Peter Parker_ were the same person. If Peter didn't feel sick before he certainly felt sick now.  
"Ok, no medbay. You need to lie down though kid. You look like you'll keel over." Peter at first tried to fight off Mister Stark's hold before instead dropping his entire body weight to the floor. The relaxation of Mister Stark's grip was enoigh to allow Peter the chance to get to his feet. His head throbbed and Peter couldn't tell if it was from his spidey sense or the nausea that churned within him.   
"I'm going, give me- give me my mask."   
"Peter..." He sounded so disappointed and Tony Stark was Peter's _hero_ , but he also was holding Peter's mask and knew who Spider-Man was now and that couldn't compute in Peter's head.  
"Give me-" Tony stepped away as Peter tried to step forwards.  
"No. Peter, _Spider-Man_ , listen, you are not well. I can't let you leave now. Where have you even been staying? According to the news you've been missing for 2 days following Skip's arrest."

Peter leant over to vomit onto the floor of the lab, Mister Stark cursed jumping back slightly to get his feet out of the splash zone.  
"You must realise you're not well kid." Peter felt like he was going to cry but his hands where supporting him and he knew if he moved his arms he'd likely fall forwards.   
"I- Mister Stark," Peter could hear his voice break and Mister Stark must be so _disgusted_ by him but looking up and seeing the furrowed brows Peter couldn't really read his expression.   
"Come on kid." Mister Stark held onto Peter by his upper arms and pulled him forwards, "We won't go to medbay if you don't want but you need to lay down for a bit. FRIDAY? How's his stats?"  
"I cannot get a full scan without a blood sample however his stats suggest chronic malnutrition and severe dehydration as well as a slight fever." Mister Stark nodded as he pulled Peter into him and Peter thought he actually had started crying now.  
"I don't want, why?"   
"Come on kid." 

Mister Stark pulled Peter into the elevator and the upward motion had Peter clasping his hand to his mouth in order to prevent him being sick again. Peter's already almost been sick on Mister Stark's shoes, he can't be sick in his lift as well. The room Mister Stark guided him to was clearly a guest suite and he helped him lie down. The tiredness Peter had been fighting off was dragging him down into the bed and making keeping his eyes open even harder.   
"I think you need to sleep it off, Peter." The sound of his name, the knowledge that Tony Stark knew his full identity made Peter cry and he felt too tired to even try and stop the tears. Instead, he shut his eyes and tried to ignore the wetness landing by the tips of his ears onto the pillow, "FRIDAY, I want an alert when the kid wakes up-" The door to the suite shut and the room was... _quiet_. Like it had been in the penthouse. 

All Peter could focus on was the nausea and the sound of his heart, and his breathing, and the slight whirring within the walls. His eyes closed, Peter tried to sleep while sending a prayer that Tony Stark hadn't left to call CPS. He always heard that you shouldn't meet your heroes and Peter was beginning to really agree with that. His identity known, lying sick in Tony Stark's penthouse, Peter couldn't imagine how his luck could get worse...


	12. Tony Stark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Light swearing in the chapter (c*nsored)

Iron Man was meant to be Tony's way of helping people and yet last week (was it that recently?) he had enlisted the help of Spider-Man who wasn't a man: Spider- _Child_. Peter Parker wasn't old enough to drive or drink, wasn't old enough to be out there on his own. He wasn't old enough to have lost his entire family and be stuck with someone like Skip Westcott either... 

Tony had left the boy in the guest suite in the penthouse before immeditaley retreating to the bar and pouring himself a drink. He paused, the drink held to his lips, could he even drink with a minor currently in _his_ care?  
"FRIDAY?" Tony swallowed, "Call... Rhodey."  
"Calling Colonel Rhodes." Tony nodded. He felt like he should call the OCFS but then again the kid was enhanced as he'd stated in the labs. Was a foster home _safe_ for a kid like that? It hadn't been so far.

"Tony?"  
"Hey Platypus." Tony sighed, setting the drink down forcefully on the bar, "I uh... found Spider-Man."  
"Well, that's great man. I know you've been trying to hunt him down for almost a year now, right?"  
"Yeah well... I was _not_ expecting who I found." Rhodey hummed, Tony could imagine the questioning look he'd be giving him.  
"And?" The pause was heavy with unspoken words, "Well? Who is he? Spider-Man?"  
"A kid."  
"Oh? How old is he? 25? I know you're getting old but I wouldn't go about calling 25 year olds kids. They might get offended." Tony didn't chuckle, "Wait? Is he younger?" Tony hummed, "20?"   
"Younger." Rhodey's swallow could be heard over the line.  
"18 is still old enough to enlist..." Tony shook his head.  
"Younger."  
"Not younger than 16 surely. He must be able to drive at least."  
"No. He's younger."  
"Tony-" Rhodey sounded so aghast.   
"It's not like I'm the one that got him into this game!"  
"I wasn't saying that, Tones." Toney sighed, rubbing his head.  
"I... I know. I'm sorry. I just... He's so young Rhodey, and he's lost so much. I -, the foster case I told you about. Rhodey-"  
"Tony." He halted, realising that he was panicking, and tried to slow down his breathing.  
"I just, Rhodey. He's sick. FRIDAY thinks it's because he wasn't eating enough and then ate too much and I had to take his mask off. I _had_ to."  
"Mask? I don't understand. You need to slow down and explain, Tones." Rhodey emphasised, speaking slowly.  
"I, he.. He fell? Or fainted or sat down, I don't know. But he wasn't responding to me so I took his mask off to see if he was breathing ok."  
"That's perfectly reasonable Tones. He can't be too mad at you."  
"But he was so panicked when he realised. He _f*cking_ vomited he was so nervous."  
"Do you need me to come?" Tony didn't reply straight away, thinking.  
"I... no. I just need to figure out what to do with him. He's enhanced and already has had bad experiences with foster care. I don't know if I'll be able to just call CPS on him. Don't know if I even trust him not to run off if I did call them."  
"Well you can't keep him." Tony paused.   
"That's... not a bad idea, Rhodey."  
"Wait? What? Tony, no. Listen to me-"  
"No, that's a good idea. The tower's been quiet since... yeah, no that's a decent idea. I'll tell him tomorrow. I can't let him go onto the streets and this way I can help him get the training he needs. He was really smart before everything."  
"Tony."   
"Bye Platypus, I'll talk to you later."  
"Wait, Tony, no-"  
"End call, FRI." Tony grinned to himself, pulling up Peter's files on his tablet. 

"FRIDAY? Can you order some clothes that'd fit him?"  
"Of course boss." Tony nodded. Clean clothes sorted, Tony began to pull up information on ways he could claim guardianship. Tony didn't have a great dad but right now that's not what the kid even needed. He needed some place warm, with food and a chance to get back to school. He needed training to be safe out there, equipment so he's not risking his life every night. 

"Boss, Peter has woken up and is displaying signs of distress."


	13. Peter Parker

Spider-Man wouldn't have nightmares, but he couldn't say the same for Peter Parker. Peter didn't even remember falling asleep but opening his eyes in panic and feeling the soft bedding at his back he knew that he must have had a nightmare: even if all he could remember was the growing panic. In fact, Peter realised belatedly, he was still panicking. His heart thundered in his chest and his breathing was fast. Light from the doorway seemed to suddenly light the entire room.

"Kid?" Mister Stark. He knew who Peter was. Who Spider-Man was. Peter frowned at him, words seemed very hard at that moment. "Kid, you're panicking." Mister Stark stepping fully into the room made Peter flinch, "I'm going to need you to slow you're breathing kid. In, 2, 3, 4, and out... In, 1, 2, 3, 4 and out-" Mister Stark was trying to stop Peter panicking, reminding Peter of a reason why he considered Mister Stark his hero in the first place, "you don't need to say anything right now Peter. Just focus on breathing." Peter stopped the whine that was reverberating through his throat, Mister Stark was within reach now, "You're doing great Peter. That's it." 

"You know who I am."

"That's right." Peter didn't really know how to respond to that. "I just want to help you kid." Peter swallowed noisily, he knew what that meant. "I didn't call OFCS if that's what's worrying you." Or maybe Peter _didn't_ know what that meant.

"What do you mean?"

"I haven't called OFCS, you don't seem to want to be in foster care, right?"

"Of course not. Who would?"

"You seem smart, kid. It'd be a shame for you to have to drop out of school completely. I want to help you, personally."

"What?"

"I want to help you. You need training to keep safe as Spider-Man and you _are_ a kid. You need to go back to school as well kid. You get back now, I'll pull some strings about late assignments and we could probably save your GPA. It's still early in the school year and the absences we can write off." Peter's mouth had dropped open.

"You're not forcing me back into the system?"

"You're an enhanced vigilante. Even if you weren't a vigilante, you'd still be enhanced. It isn't the most safe to force you to stay with unwitting foster carers." Peter nodded, he was tired, hungry and thirsty. It seemed like Peter's luck may be turning around.

"Thank you..." Mister Stark nodded.

"First thing's first, we need to food in you. I want to run some tests to see just how fast you're metabolism actually is. That way we'll be able to know how many calories you need a day." Peter nodded, this all sounded too good to be true.

-

Showered, fed and watered, Peter's spidey sense had become completely silenced. It was off-putting how silent the penthouse was, which was emphasised by the lack of buzzing at the back of Peter's head.

"So, Peter. I have contacted my lawyers to see about getting you transfered into my guardianship." Peter nodded, looking at the floor by Mister Stark's shoes. He was expecting a black, leather pair but instead he was wearing a set of trainers. "Once guardianship is sorted, I'll be contacting Midtown, that's your school right?" Peter hums yes with a slight nod, "I'll be arranging a meeting between us and your principal. See what we can do for your GPA." 

"Thank you, Mister Stark."

"You can call me Tony. You'll be living here kid, you might as well be comfortable."

"Right." 

"Right..." The silence stretched on, "I suppose we can get you kitted out with a tablet and phone. If, you uh, don't already have one?" Mister Stark was much less eloquent than Peter thought considering how well Mister Stark could work a press conference.

"Skip, my old foster carer, he took my old phone and I don't know what he did with it." Tony nodded.

"No, worries. We'll get you set up with a new one. Was your phone backed up onto the cloud or something?" Peter shrugged in response.

"Didn't have much on it to be honest, Mister Stark."

"Tony." Peter faltered.

"Tony." The nod Mister Stark gave him made his chest stutter but Peter didn't really know why.

Mister Stark, _Tony_ , was more generous than Peter would expect for a billionaire. He didn't blink at giving Peter the latest Stark phone, tablet and PC which he helped set up at the desk in the guest room - _Peter's_ room. He had even instructed Peter to ask FRIDAY, ~~Mister Stark's~~ Tony's AI, if he needed anything. 

"I'll leave you kid. I'll order food in for dinner around 6. If you need me, I'll be in the lab or you can ask FRIDAY." Peter nodded, Mister Stark paused by the door to Peter's new room before nodding to himself and leaving Peter to flop onto the bed looking up to the ceiling. 

"It's finally turning up Parker."


End file.
